


Pride of the Rock

by booktick



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: House Lannister, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:26:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments in time for House Lannister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride of the Rock

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I originally thought this might just be a Cersei centered series with different moments in her life, though I am considering doing other members of House Lannister. I dunno just yet, it’s a possibility.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

**285 AC.** ( _Cersei_ )

* * *

 

Cersei could have bested them all, she told herself daily. All the ladies who followed at her heels to wait and dote and say things on how beautiful and wonderful she was. They would have said the same things to Rhaella Targaryen if Aerys the second still sat on the sword throne.

Then again if Aerys were still alive Cersei wouldn’t be Queen. She wouldn’t be Robert Baratheon’s bride and Queen and her father’s head would be on the spikes at the front gates to King’s Landing. But her father was a smart man, clever men get ahead of themselves and smart men help other men become King overnight.

At least that’s how things happened for the Kingdoms in the last two years. Robert was King and she was pregnant and her lord Father was still the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms. She should be grateful, even happy, her father said.

She was Queen, as it was promised. But her father hadn’t promised her that. Her father promised her Rhaegar Targaryen and instead of a Dragon she got a Stag. A Stag that fucked nearly everything and everyone in his sights besides her. It took wine and Kingly obligation for her.

That’s what Robert jested with his hand, Jon Arryn. She remembered that perfectly. Robert did not. Robert would blame the wine as if it excused all excessive behavior from him. The Maesters and people happily forgave Brave King Robert Baratheon and condemned her for not being able to keep his attention as other women do.

Once Robert spilled his seed he was onto the next who caught his fancy which meant she wasn’t far from a whore on the Robert Baratheon pedestal. She was not treated as a Queen should be, she thought.

Even Queen Rhaella was respected by the people. Even Rhaegar didn’t want her as Robert did not. They wanted Lyanna, a girl of six and ten or perhaps even less. Did Elia Martell forgive Rhaegar’s jests and actions? Was Elia Martell angered by being humiliated and disregarded? Robert was no dragon but he was a man same as Rhaegar, men…no dragons or stags really.

Men fighting other men in the name of honor and whoring. Rhaegar was dead. Elia was dead. The Mad King was dead. And Robert made his jokes.

"Fuck Robert." Cersei murmured, as if it were a secret.

None of that mattered anymore in Robert’s mind. Cersei was with child, she’d done her duty and if it was a boy he was free to do as he pleased. She wanted a boy. He’d be better than Robert. A better King in every way. A true King.

She preferred to keep her distance from the Red Keep ever since Robert’s jab of Kingly obligations and spent most of her time inside her chambers or on the balcony to look at the gardens near by. She could see the flowers that grew and wondered if any had thorns on the stems.

The flowers used to decorate her chambers when she first wed the eldest Baratheon brother, flowers that made her forget of the smells of ale. She could see them from where she stood though not as well. Cersei hadn’t walked in the gardens in some time, months perhaps more. The tangled flowers and bushes were beautiful, wild even when trapped inside a castle, inside King’s Landing like she was.

Cersei Lannister stood on that same adored balcony, where she eyed those same wild flowers and tangled bushes, on a day Robert went hunting and she was indeed grateful for that. She wouldn’t have to hear the squeals of whores and the rumbling laughter that came from her King husband, the drunken warrior. Her husband’s laugh could be just as piercing as his steel stare.

She wasn’t sure if either was better than the other. But as Cersei stood on her balcony, her perch to the gardens below, she felt nearly at peace if only briefly as it was soon stopped by her fingers that moved, intertwined with the beads in her hands.

It did not calm her nor stop her eyes that stared at all those who passed below. The beads were from no one special and they did little to help much of anything in her life, Cersei could not think of why she kept them on hand at all.

Praying hadn’t brought her mother back and it hadn’t stopped her from being suspicious of those around her.

"Good Queen Cersei Baratheon…" She whispered "Heretic Queen Cersei Lannister."

No one heard. No one cared.

Cersei moved each bead of the necklace she held slowly. Each bead was counted inside her mind, each bead that was moved by her fingers reminded her to take a breath. Her chest stung and her belly burned, the fear and rage settled uncomfortably in her shoulders and pulled her down just as slowly as she moved the prayer beads.

"In a coat of gold…" She whispered, a frown upon her red lips.

"Or a coat of red." Cersei’s frown deepened.

Her fingers brushed her pregnant belly for a moment to remind herself of the babe, to forget the monsters that crawled into her bed over and over. Her babe was hers and she would protect it from Stags and Golden Knights and everything cruel in this world. Lions helped Lions to eat the Stags and the Fish, she remembered.

This, however, did not make the weight on her shoulders let go of her, it clawed and grabbed at her ribs. The aching weight made everything seem slower to her each day. The Golden Knights below moved in even steps and almost seemed to blur together. They never once looked up at her, where she stood they could but no one seemed to care where Cersei Lannister was or wasn’t.

Her stomach’s burn greatened and her heart hardened to ignore the pain from the weight in her shoulders. Better a hardened heart than sullen shoulders and lowered nods. Cersei kept her head held high and beads close to her stomach, even when no one let their eyes fall upon her.

The gilded Queen pulled away from the balcony she stood at. She turned herself away fully after another moment passed, her steps as even as the Knights had been as she walked back into the red chambers she had been thrown into.

At least it wasn’t covered in insignias of Stags and yellows like everything else in King’s Landing. She despised yellow, even gold at times. The yellows looked like stains, when she wore yellow with stags stitched into the fabric the wildfire inside Cersei only grew.

Her green eyes never looked brighter in those moments, Jaime had said, besides when she was sat and forced beside Robert Baratheon—The Great Drunken Stag of a man he was. Jaime could make his jokes but it didn’t change anything.

She had thought Robert would be proud, that the King might show some form of warmth, if not for her, than for the idea of finally having a legitimate heir. The idea of an heir seemed better than the actual thing to Robert but not when it came from a lioness instead of a wolf no doubt.   
Cersei wondered if her Stag would be happier to have an heir with a corpse from House Stark. The sting in her chest returned at the reminder of Robert’s whisper on their wedding night. She would sooner cut his throat than hear Robert moan Lyanna upon her golden locks again.

But she would be the pliant wife, the dutiful Queen of the kingdoms and bare the child that was supposed to secure House Baratheon and House Lannister forever and more. The child that was a secret between her and Jaime, though her brother would not admit it yet out loud, not yet.

Robert’s legitimate heir was a lie, this union was a lie and it would all burn one day. Cersei did not wish to imagine the hand that would put that fire out. The reminder that wildfire could not be put out calmed her for the most part until her hand touched her belly again.

Her stomach was round and made her red dress spread out further. They said her stomach would keep growing until it was time for the birth. Cersei remembered her lady mother’s stomach growing wider and how happy her lord father had seemed. King Robert did not seem happy and Cersei did not intend to breath her last from this.

Her mother had faded away. Cersei would not.

There were steps…Robert-?

"Your majesty?" Maester Pycelle asked.

Cersei turned though not as quickly as she would have liked to, prayer beads still at her stomach and both hands upon where her child rested within. Her golden hair over her shoulders in a wild mess, nearly hid her hands and beads.

"I-I am sorry if I surprised yo-uh-your majesty." Pycelle stuttered.

Cersei smiled, as she had smiled to thousands before and would a thousand more. She was a Queen, a Lady of Casterly Rock, and she carried her brother’s son and the next in line to the Iron Throne. She would not let some aging, filthy Maester bother her and help harm her son as Pycelle helped harm the Mad King and all the other little dragon Princes and Princesses.

Her son would be a lion. And he would devour the world.

"You did not surprise me, Maester Pycelle." Cersei replied.

She walked carefully past the elderly man to her vanity mirror and sat before it. Her belly nearly touched the table there.

"Did my husband, the King send you?"

Cersei’s smile never once faltered, it was perfect.

"N-No, your majesty." Of course not.

"Then why are you in my company?" She asked.

"I-I thought perhaps you would need assistance on what will be expected in the later mo-um, months of your pregnancy." He smiled.

The man’s teeth stained with a dark yellow.

Cersei despised yellow.

"Are you a midwife?"

"N-No-" He stammered.

"Are you my husband?"

"No, your majesty." Pycelle seemed near offended.

"Are you my brother," She never raised her voice "Maester?

Pycelle sputtered some more at her “Your majesty-I am knowledgeable of many things-” Pycelle stuttered once more.

"I know that you are knowledgeable." Cersei interrupted.

"I know that you must have tried to advise Elia Martell too. Must have given her your great advice on both her pregnancies. Didn’t you?"

Her eyes met his in the mirror and the burn in her belly returned. Her smile frozen on her lips, her eyes cold and not as warm as they had been. Cersei was quiet for a moment’s passing, though as silence started to fill the air again Cersei spoke again.

"But you see, Maester Pycelle, as much as I do appreciate such things and intentions. I am quite tired as being in the state I am in has made it difficult to even stand." She finished her words with a nod.

Pycelle did not dare sputter a reply in return. Cersei did not have to turn to see Pycelle’s face. The image haunted her mirror, how unfortunate for the mirror.

"I thank you for your interest in my well being although it has no need here."

Cersei kept her smile even when  
Pycelle bowed his head respectfully though not genuinely, she knew enough liars to know that. The man smelled, always smelled, like rust and the stains of the sewers. She was not sure if any man disgusted her more with such a smell…Robert…perhaps Robert could when he wanted to.

Pycelle left shortly after bowing his head, the elderly fool had waddled as he left. She watched him leave, every step until the doors to her chambers were shut. Cersei finally let out the breath she had held.

Her fingers had gripped the table during the exchange of words with Pycelle. She hadn’t realized until then, her knuckles were white. She looked down at the beads firmly pressed against her round belly.

"I am here." She whispered.

Her grip loosened on the table and her fingers uncurled much slower. She felt her lips change from her frozen smile to a deep frown and her eyebrows knit together. She placed her palms flat against her belly carefully, beads still pressed as well. Protective.

Had Elia Martell carried beads too? Had the Princess clung to prayers and hoped Robert Baratheon would be a merciful and fair man in the end too? Beads would not protect her babe just as the world would not protect her if Robert Baratheon came kicking down her chamber doors too.

Her eyes shut briefly, her fingers left her belly to roughly wipe the meaningless tears away. Cersei looked at her hands and saw the make up they had shoved onto her eyes and cheeks earlier in the day to make her appear livelier than she felt. She was to be seen. It wasn’t she that truly mattered anymore, not even to Tywin Lannister.

She was not Catelyn Stark. She was not Cassandra Baratheon. They wanted a obedient and graceful rosy cheeked Queen. They wanted their heir, their future King. Their next King. Their King.

Her face felt warmer than before, not quite the same burn she had felt in her belly though. Cersei looked at herself in the mirror ans saw her wild locks of hair, those ice green eyes and her sneer.

Robert would never lust after her like he lusted the Stark girl, would never love her babe or her like he loved Ned Stark. She didn’t care about wolves and stags or even dragons anymore than she cared for golds and yellows.

Cersei had her claws and they’d sharpen each day. Her sword was her mind, she’d be better. She’d be more observant, watchful of enemies than any other Queen before her. She’d be better than Visenya Targaryen, than Alysanne Targaryen.

If she could not have Robert’s love then she’d have the Kingdoms’.

Cersei placed the prayer beads upon the table as she stood and stepped away from the vanity mirror. She placed her palms flat upon her belly once more and stared at herself in the mirror for what felt like hours to her. And as she stood, her head held high and her smile grew.

Father had said it was her duty, as a Lannister, to carry on the name. That was what she was doing, for the good of the family and the good of her. She deserved more than this, Jaime did, her babe did. They deserved more than a piece of paper signed by Robert Baratheon that held empty promises.

Robert Baratheon could have his whores, and his bastards. Robert could hunt his boars and wear his furs with a puffed chest as if he saved all the Kingdoms. She would have her son, her babe, and Jaime. That would be enough…just her boy and her greatest love. Jaime would love her, the same as her boy.

No one was going to harm her boy, not ever. He was hers and hers alone. She would protect him ans guide him. If Robert could have the world then she could have her babe surely. Even if the Gods didn’t care, perhaps they wouldn’t care if she had her babe. Perhaps they’d forget and leave her boy alone.

Cersei nodded to herself, as if to make her thoughts true and strong. She could be as strong as her lord father, even stronger.

"It is alright, my lion" She whispered to her belly "Mother is here for you."

She was a lioness and a Stag was in her way.


End file.
